


on the crests of waves and salt of sea

by certifieddyke



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Body Horror, Human Outsider (Dishonored), Loss of Identity, Low Chaos (Dishonored), M/M, Memory Loss, Mute Corvo Attano, Post-Dishonored: Death of the Outsider, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Void, Transformation, Void God Corvo Attano
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-11 00:17:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13512795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifieddyke/pseuds/certifieddyke
Summary: After Billie Lurk frees the Outsider from the void, he struggles to make sense of an entirely new existence. His Marked have lost their powers, and the Overseer's collection of bone charms have crumbled to dust, and heretics across Dunwall mourn the loss of their God.The night the Outsider becomes human, Corvo Attano dreams that he is drowning. Then, his mark begins to change and his hands grow as cold as the depths of the ocean. The Outsider is free now, but the Void is reaching for a new representative.Or: In which the Outsider learns how to be human and the Lord Protecter is forced into godhood against his will.





	on the crests of waves and salt of sea

When he opened his eyes for the first time, he was unable to see. He blinked furiously, willing the tears to subside, willing his eyes to stop burning. _The brightness_ , he decided, _was the main concern_. The Void existed in a constant state of twilight, and what few light sources there were had no effect on his vision. He was, after all, a part of the Void himself. Used to be, at any rate.

 

He let his eyes fall shut again, and concentrated on the sensations surrounding him. His hands shook as they explored the fine grain of wood beneath him, the air warmer than any in his memory. The salt in the air was easy to taste when he pried his dry lips apart and darted his tongue forward- the moisture weighed down his lungs and he became acutely aware of the sensation of his own chest moving. Another strange thing – he had never needed to breathe before. He wondered what he looked like, now; young or old, and with a scar on his throat or not?

 

His breathing quickened. His newly formed heart beat like a fish-fin in his chest.

 

_Just where was he?_

___________________ 

Corvo Attano was drowning. 

The thought dripped like treacle through his head, strangely calming. He was simply stating a fact- the water’s cold, and salty, and he was drowning. He felt no alarm- his heartbeat remained slow and unbothered. For a moment, he tried to breathe, but all the entered his lungs was cool, salty water. Still, he was calm. There was no feeling in his toes or fingers, but his throat didn’t burn. He knew it should.  He wondered how he had gotten there as he fell into the increasingly dark waters. He couldn’t remember a thing- then the concern slipped away like everything else and he contented himself with slipping _down, down, down_. He heard nothing, then something- low and mournful and slow, _slow like his heart, like his thoughts._

He let his eyes slide shut and concentrated on the sensations surrounding him.  Weightless and wordless, he drifted through the cold, Void-like place. Not breathing, not moving, simply listening to the mournful noises that enclosed him like a net.

_It sounded beautiful._

___________________

He came back to wakefulness like a whale breaching the water- slowly, slowly, _slowly_ , when he heard a knocking at his door. Groaning, he rubbed at his eyes until the haziness subsided.

Whoever was at his door knocked again, more insistently. “Lord Protector,” A young man called, “forgive me for waking you, but a letter has arrived for you. The empress says it’s urgent, sir. From somebody called ‘Billie’” The young man jumped backwards as Corvo swung his bedroom door open. He raised an eyebrow.

“Sir…?” The man asked, shifting from one foot to the other.

 _“Tell her I’ll be down shortly.”_ He signed.

“Right.” The man walked stiffly away, no doubt in search of wine or something of the sort. With no large threats to the empress, professionalism in Dunwall Tower was on the decline, and the man was young.

The morning was young, soft light drifting in spotted patterns through his window. On the short outward jut of his windowsill a few stray crows hopped from foot to foot, letting loose an occasional quiet trill. In the serenity of the day, Corvo found his unease fading along with the remaining snippets of his dream; he was left with an impression of falling and heavy weight on his chest, and a pervasive sense of peace and slight numbness. Huffing out his breath, Corvo swung open the glass window only to be greeted with a brisk, clear wave of air, along with the muted sounds of Dunwall awakening: the faint rattle of the faraway docks, the loud calls of merchants selling goods, and the distant melodies of musicians.

Corvo winced as he threaded an arm through his shirt. He, on the other hand, was anything but. Not that the various aches and pains kept him from performing his duties, but there was certainly less rooftop running in his life now. A small smile danced on his face as he thought back to the days he spent flitting through the shadows of Dunwall and blinking from streetlight to streetlight without a fear on his mind. Now, his back ached every morning despite the comfort of his bed, and his unmarked hand was often stiff and achy. Thankfully, he had picked up a few runes over the years that helped the matter – he reached for them now to store in a satchel beneath his coat, then blinked in surprise. As he pulled the charms from their hiding place beneath his mattress, he felt no steady _thrum_ of void magic. No faraway hint of whalesong. He took one into his hands and was struck by the brittle feel of the pitted bone.

He turned it over in his hand, and felt the edge of one of the bones crumble away. The dust fell to the floor, catching a stray sunbeam on the way down before settling into a small pile at his bare feet. Kneeling, he swiped his pinkie through the particles, then rubbed his fingers together. The dust was so fine it coated his hand and disappeared. A heavy weight settled in Corvo’s gut. _Something was wrong._

But first, a trip to Emily.

___________________

“Do what you want, but I’m not teaching you how to talk or how to piss,” was the first thing Billie Lurk told him when he awoke. The Outsider blinked.

“My tongue might be heavy, but it is certainly still functional.”

Billie snorted at this. “Sure, just don’t say that to anyone. What should I call you?”

He closed his eyes again, thinking. “Whatever name I had before, I am not that boy anymore. I may no longer belong to the Void, but I’ve been the Outsider for over four millennia,” He paused to clear his throat of salty air, “call me what you like. Outsider will do, if you must.”

“Outsider it is, then. At least for now.” A lull settled between the two of them, broken only by the creaking wood and steady beat of waves. Billie wordlessly handed him a canteen of water, and the Outsider gratefully accepted; the water was scarcely colder than his mouth and the motion of swallowing made him erupt into a coughing fit. “Not used to drinking, are you?” Billie remarked. He could only sputter.

The next sip he took slid down smoothly, though his throat still stung.

“Where are you taking me?” The Outsider asked. He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to whatever Billie told him, as there was no place in the world he particularly wanted to go. He had no home, no bed, no place to stay. No alliances.

Well, there was Corvo Attano, but the Outsider doubted Corvo wanted anything to do with him. His mouth twisted; certainly, Corvo would pity his weakness.

Billie gave him a sidelong glance. “I sent a letter to the Empress before we left. We’re on our way to Dunwall, see if we can get this whole,” she gestured wildly with her one hand, “mess figured out. You’re going to need someplace to stay.”

The Outsider flinched. Guilt was a new emotion to the former god, emotions as a whole were intense and difficult after thousands of years in a vacuum, and he found himself shrinking in the face of Billie’s missing arm. Out of all those he marked, only a few remained alive. And now that he was… human, none bore his name on their hands. “And where will you go, Billie Lurk?” the Outsider murmured, “Now that Daud is one with the Void and you have no powers to your name? What will you do, now that your debts are repaid and your friends gone?”

Billie turned to glare at him. “You’d best remember you aren’t a god anymore. Nothing stopping me from beating the shit out of you,” she said. “And, not that it matters, I’m planning on-”

“Becoming a ship captain. That was always your dream, wasn’t it? When your name was Meaghan Foster you lived that dream, but not in its entirety. Your guilt ate away at you like rats to a corpse, and you never escaped that night at the gazebo. Tell me, Billie, have you changed? Have you-” The Outsider cut off as his slender frame heaved with a coughing fit. Soft, raspy breaths came from the corner in which he was seated.

“Like I said, you aren’t a god. So leave the monologuing in the Void where it belongs, or else to someone who gives a shit.” Billie tossed him the water canteen and promptly left the dark room in the underbelly of the ship. He distantly realized that he never asked whose boat they were traveling in, or why Billie contacted the Empress of all people.

But he was tired, and the journey to Dunwall would be long, so despite his faint seasickness the Outsider drifted back to a dreamless slumber.

___________________

“She says she’s bringing a guest, and that they will be arriving in a few weeks,” Emily said.

Corvo frowned. _“That’s it?”_ Given the unease of his morning, he expected… well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he expected, but certainly something more. _“Do you think it could be Daud?”_

Sighing, Emily rested a hand on her father’s shoulder. “If it is, quite frankly, I don’t care. But I doubt he’d be here without a good reason. He left Dunwall so long ago.” Her confident words were betrayed by the slight shake of her hand. “There’s something else that’s been bothering me,” Emily started, “It may be nothing, but the Overseers came by earlier. They say the bone charms they collected have crumbled to dust. They suspect foul forces are at play, though that’s nothing new.”

_“Anything else?”_

Lowering her voice, Emily took a furtive glance around the throne room. “I was wondering if you knew anything about it,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “or about _him_. Have you heard anything?”

Corvo signed quickly, “ _Nothing from_ him _, but the Overseers are telling the truth about the bone charms. I went to retrieve mine upon waking, and they’re nothing but piles of silt. I have a bad feeling about this.”_ He rubbed his shoulder blade, wincing. _“Hopefully it’s resolved soon. The last time the Void changed, Delilah was siphoning power from it. But this feels different.”_

“Should we do anything? I assume the Overseers will tell us if something changes, overzealous bastards as they are, but an increase in security might be needed if it’s something like Delilah again.” She winced slightly. “I certainly hope it’s nothing like Delilah.”

 _“I’ll tell the watch to increase patrols.”_ Corvo added a mental note to increase his own patrols as well – if his instincts were right, something strange was happening. _“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll begin preparations. But I doubt Delilah or anyone like her could come back.”_ His daughter nodded curtly.

___________________

Corvo rubbed his covered left hand feverishly as he blinked down the long flights of stairs. The bones of his fingers ached as if it were winter, dull waves of not-quite-pain radiating upwards into his forearm. He stumbled as he overshot a jump by meters, then straightened as he realized that he shouldn’t have been able to travel as far as he did. As if in response to his thoughts, the back of his hand burned sharply, then settled to a strange pulling sensation. He quickly ducked into an empty room.

He fumbled with the bandage on his left hand with stiff fingers before undoing the brass clasp holding the wrapping and unwinding the coarse cloth. As the last layer pulled away, Corvo’s hand throbbed intensely, and he stumbled back onto the wall of the room. As he did, the last of the bandages fell to the floor, revealing the warped outline of the Outsider’s Mark. Though the shape was mostly intact, the ink-black shape seemed to have bled further into Corvo’s skin. Thin tendrils, reminiscent of veins, radiated a centimeter or so from the bloated symbol.

 _Something was wrong_.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to lie, this is my first shot at writing a long fanfiction. I'll do my best, but updates are going to be entirely dependent on my school workload and motivation.
> 
> I feel like the Outsider wouldn't necessarily go by his previous name - he's changed so much and is four millennia older, after all. But I doubt he'll continue to go by "Outsider", since that title was forced on him. Once he gets to Dunwall, I'll have to come up with a pseudonym...
> 
> I have two warring headcanons regarding Corvo: He's selectively mute due to trauma, or had his tongue cut out while in Coldridge. We'll see which is the case as the story progresses- even I don't know which yet.
> 
> Any feedback is welcome! Like I said, I'm new to longer fanfics (and to Dishonored fanfics in general) and I'm sure this is OOC at some points, so just let me know what to fix and I'll be super grateful!


End file.
